Poetry in Motion
by Hi
Summary: Spike's last words


# Poetry in Motion

_Description: Spike gets his chip out. I wrote this after Fool for Love, so nothing after that episode's happened yet_.

## Disclaimer and Distribution: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are all the property of Joss, Mutant Enemy, Fox television, and (for now anyway) the WB.The story, however, was written by me, so if you want it (god only knows why), please ask.

I never was much of a poet.Bastardized Blake was the best I could manage:

Slayer, Slayer burning bright

Laughing warrior of the night

What immortal hand or eye

Could hope to claim thy fearful symmetry?

One William looting another: I may be a bloody awful poet, but my sense of irony's positively wicked.

Or is plagiarism the word I'm looking for?

Words, words, words.Dru's words in the car, that night after that bastard Angel got his arse kicked from here to Hell.

"Oh Spike, you've been eclipsed.The knave of hearts, she's covered you all up, and the cow can't jump over the moon.Oh, I've lost my dear Spike and nothing shall bring him back, what am I to do?"

I tried to reassure her.Tried to reassure myself; I was still the big bad, hell on wheels, fire and ice and all that crap.

Yeah, I was bad.Still am.But I was nothing compared to her. 

The Slayer. 

Yes, I've got Slayers on the brain.They've been my passion for almost as long as I've been a vampire. Only Dru ever meant as much to me.Time was she meant more, but that's over now. 

So's everything else: at least for me. Everything's gone to hell now. 

Before, my "ridiculous little Slayer fixation" (that's what Darla called it; never did like the old bitch) wasn't really a problem.Before, what I wanted to do was kill them.Did it twice too, and came damn close another time.Never told anyone about it though, not even her (Which her? Both, actually).It was back during the Great War, although some blasted German shell got there first, would you believe it?Stupid French bint had been doing her duty on the front lines, fighting vampires in No Man's Land.If you need anymore proof Slayer's have a death wish, there it is.Wouldn't have gone near the bloody war myself, at least not if the Slayer hadn't been there too.

This is the part I never told anyone, not even Dru: when I found her, she wasn't quite dead yet.She would have died anyway, I could have just let her bleed to death.I couldn't though. There was something in her eyes, a pleading: she was a Slayer, and she wanted to die the proper way, at a vampire's hand, not bleeding to death because a piece of hot metal had blown her legs off.

So I obliged.

But I never took credit for her, and I still don't.Didn't drink her either.And then of course I almost got vaporized by another bloody shell.I can tell you I've never run so fast in my life since.Never been to sodding France since either, and don't plan on going back (not that I actually plan on going anywhere). 

That happened in 1918, couple months before the armistice: I think she was fourteen. Might have been younger though.What a fucking waste. So young, so bloody helpless.Not like the first one I killed: she'd been young, but she gave me a damn good fight.

The third one, she was different too.She had fire, and I could respect that. She was older too, almost thirty. She'd lasted longer than most of them: that's how I'd heard about her.

Funny though, couldn't bring myself to drink her.Took her coat though, a trophy.But also a sign of respect.'Sides, Dru needed the blood more than I did in those days.

So yeah, I've always had a thing for Slayers.Never been in love with one though, least not 'till now. 

Which brings me to Buffy.

She's an innocent killer, a Slayer with friends and family.She's got the instinct of the kill, but she's also got something that no other Slayer I've ever known had: the will to live. She's life and death together, perfect.And she's beautiful damnit.I don't mean just for the looks, although God knows she's got those.

Pretty soon now, she's gonna kill me.

Funny, I don't really care.I thought I would.

She was right about me, you know. I am beneath her: I'm just a vampire, and although somehow I feel in ways most vamps never do, I can never hope to touch her, even if I knew how.Killing, that's the only way I could touch any of them.But I can't bring myself to kill her.Not Buffy.

Killed her boy though, moment that damn chip finally shorted out.Bloody poof Riley, always did hate him: if I wasn't worthy of Buffy, there's no way in hell the Real American Hero could be.Gave me more of a fight than I expected though, best fight I've gotten out of anybody who wasn't Angel or a Slayer.And when it finally came, he almost looked glad.

I could've done worse, though. Gone after her family, or her Watcher, or Red, or even that moron Xander.Didn't though. There wouldn't be a point.Killing Riley is enough to get her to kill me, but it isn't enough to touch her.No matter how much you hurt her, she'll find a way to live: Angel tried to tell me that when he turned. "Too kill this girl, you have to love her."'Course, Angel didn't love her, not with the soul gone.That's why he went 'round the bend and tried to destroy the world, he knew he wouldn't be able to break Buffy.

None of us will.

That's what I finally figured out that night when I saw her crying on the porch.It's her mum that's gonna kill her. Or else her sister, or one of those annoying friends of hers: she'll be worrying too much about them to watch her own back, and she'll make some stupid mistake and die.

And you can bet the wanker that does her will swagger off to his crew and brag on forever how he bagged himself the Slayer nobody else ("not even that arrogant prick Spike") could kill, all the while never knowing that all he had to do was show up.

A few years ago, he could have been me.I had to fuck things up by getting to know her: after that, there wasn't much point in playing the Big Bad anymore. 

_Finally_ she shows up.All this introspection crap has me fucking miserable.I didn't make it hard for her, really.The factory: last place me and Dru were happy, seemed like the best place to die.

She doesn't waste any time on banter, she's too brassed off.I give her some good digs though, stuff about doing her a favor killing Captain Freedom for her.

She doesn't like that much.Looks like Finn did manage to touch her, even if it took dying to do it. Wonder how long it took him to figure that one out?

The fight's good . . .I want her to remember this bout, so I fight it like I mean it.Then the adrenaline kicks in, and for a moment I feel like I really can come out of this one on top: I still want it. I still want her, even if the only way I can ever get her (the only way I could ever get any of them) is to hold her corpse in my hands.And she's pissed off enough to get sloppy for a second and I've got a chance to end it right there.I miss though, and now I'm the one on the floor.To be honest, I can't say it wasn't intentional.

For a moment she looks confused, like a part of her knows I just let her win.Then the anger kicks in.As her arm rises for the blow, I know just what to say.I know what she is.

"Poetry in motion . . ."

The stake slams into my heart.

" . . . bitch."


End file.
